Return of the Boredom
by Jamie August
Summary: The crew has to rescue colonists from the most boring planet in the universe! Not even a wrong turn, Wesley Crusher, Loonius brain fever, or the sadism of the author can stop them! please r/r
1. Are We There Yet?

_SUMMARY: Oh, god, NOOOOO! The crazy little brat wrote a sequel! Yes, this is sort of a follow-up to "To Seek Out New Forms Of Entertainment". It has a lot to do with boredom, mine and the crew's. In this one, they take a wrong turn in the Monotony sector while on their way to rescue colonists on Banality Seven before they die of boredom. People act funny when they're bored senseless._

_DISCLAIMER: All hail Paramount and the Roddenberry family, for they have the power of Trek. All hail whoever invented the Potty Putter (yes, it's a real product.), for they added to my amusement._

_ARCHIVING: Ask me. Please. augustdragon81@netscape.net_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I saw a commercial for the Potty Putter one day on the Sci-Fi Channel, and I knew instantly that I would have to find a way to work it into a story. I just couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. My evil demon-muse sits on top of the computer and tells me what to write. He's been very talkative lately._

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## Return of the Boredom

_by: Jamie August_

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**Captain's Log, Stardate 47474.7:** I am bored. Bored out of my mind. We've been traveling through the Monotony sector for the past two weeks. We should have come to a planet three days ago, but all we've seen so far is endless space. I think Commander Riker took a wrong turn somewhere around Tedious Three. I know it wasn't _me_. Anyway, to keep up crew morale, I believe I have hidden my boredom quite well.   
  


**First Officer's Log: **The captain is bored again. Nothing good can come from this. Oh, and I think he made a wrong turn somewhere around Tedious Three.   
  


"Number One, I most certainly did not!"   
  


Riker looked up at the captain, wide-eyed. "You know, sir, it's very rude to eavesdrop on a person when they're recording a log entry."   
  


Picard gestured around the bridge, where they both sat in their command chairs. "If you want privacy, you should go to the other room instead of simply hunching down in your chair and whispering to the comm unit."   
  


"Oh. Right." Riker rolled his eyes. Why should he go to the other room? Picard had recorded his log entry while standing in the corner pretending to inspect the bulkhead.   
  


"I saw that, Number One."   
  


"What?"   
  


"You rolled your eyes at me. I could have you court-martialed for that."   
  


Riker rolled his eyes again. These days, the captain's favorite threat was 'I could have you court-martialed'.   
  


"You did it again, Number One!"   
  


"Oh, so what? You're the one who got us lost. Sir," he added sarcastically.   
  


"I assure you, I did not get us lost!"   
  


Thus far, the rest of the bridge crew had remained silent, watching the argument. Now, however, Worf decided to ask the question everyone had on their minds. "Then where are we, Captain?"   
  


Picard glared at the Klingon. "We are in the _Enterprise_, headed in that --" he flapped his arm toward the viewscreen "-- direction. Any more questions, Mr. Worf?"   
  


"No, sir."   
  


Deanna Troi leaned forward, concentrating on something. "Captain, I am sensing that we are lost."   
  


"Gee, you figured that one out all by yourself?" a helmsman muttered.   
  


Picard switched his glare to Deanna. "We are not lost. And why do you even _have_ a chair on the bridge, anyway? I've never quite figured that out."   
  


The counselor blinked. "Captain, I believe you are projecting your frustration about the situation onto me."   
  


Rolling his own eyes now, Picard turned to Riker. "She's _your_ girlfriend, Will, can't you do something?"   
  


"Only if you admit that you got us lost."   
  


"I will not! You were the one at the helm."   
  


"And I followed _your_ directions!"   
  


"You did not! You turned the wrong way!"   
  


"I did not!"   
  


"You did so!"   
  


"Did not!"   
  


"Did so!"   
  


"No, I didn't. You told me to turn starboard, and I did."   
  


"You did not! You turned port!"   
  


A shocked silence fell over the giggling crew when Riker jumped up and began kicking his chair. After several minutes of chair-kicking, he turned to face the helm. Sweat pouring down his flushed face, he said, "Commander Data. Which way is starboard?"   
  


Even Data was a bit frightened of the First Officer's outburst. He'd turned his emotion chip on that morning, but now he considered switching it off. "Starboard is right, sir."   
  


Riker grinned triumphantly at the captain and sat down in his battered chair. "See? I told you so."   
  


The captain frowned. "Are you sure? I could have sworn starboard was left."   
  


"I assure you, Captain, starboard is right. Port is left. You may find a mnemonic device helpful in remembering the difference. Perhaps you can remember 'port' as being 'left' by recalling that each word consists of four letters. As for 'starboard' --"   
  


"_Thank _you_,_ Mr. Data," Picard growled through clenched teeth.   
  


"You are welcome, Captain."   
  


Several members of the bridge crew giggled. Picard directed an evil glare around the room, letting his gaze fall on each crew member individually. "What are you laughing at? I could have you all court-martialed!"   
  


Riker, Troi, Data, and Worf rolled their eyes.   
  


"I saw that! You're all going to be court-martialed!"   
  


* * *   
  


**Chief Medical Officer's Log: **I have just finished examining the corpse of a young crewman, and am reporting my findings. Ensign NoName was in Ten-Forward with two friends when he collapsed onto the floor. Apparently, just seconds before his collapse, he made the comment, "I'm so bored I could die" then took a bite of his Arsenic Sundae with strychnine sprinkles and fell to the floor, dead. The body also shows several small puncture wounds, but I'm told that's because his girlfriend poked him several times with a fork after his collapse, just to see if he was really dead. When I asked why she didn't just scan him with a tricorder, she shrugged and said, "I dunno. I guess it was just more fun to poke him with the fork." My conclusion is that this man died of boredom. End log.   
  


Dr. Beverly Crusher covered the prone body of Ensign NoName with a sheet and sighed. Looking around the otherwise-empty Sick Bay, she decided to go down to Ten-Forward. She suddenly had a craving for an Arsenic Sundae with strychnine sprinkles.   
  


* * *   
  


"Are we there yet?"   
  


"Shut up, Number One."   
  


"Well, we'd be there already if you hadn't gotten us lost."   
  


"Captain, I'm sensing great anger."   
  


"Shut _up!_ Don't _make_ me turn this ship around!"   
  


"But, Captain? Isn't that exactly what we _should_ do?"   
  


"Yeah, especially since the planet is back _that_ way."   
  


"Number One; Counselor; you're both going to be court-martialed if you don't shut the bloody hell _up!_"   
  


* * *   
  


**Chief Medical Officer's Log:** Well, I got called back into Sick Bay before getting a chance to taste my Arsenic Sundae. I had to treat Commander Riker's bloody nose and black eye. He refuses to tell me how the injuries occurred. No, I take that back. He claims he was injured by a malfunctioning turbolift door, but I don't believe him. I have relieved him of duty with instructions to go relax. Now I think I'll go back to Ten-Forward and see if my sundae is still there.   
  


* * *   
  


**Ship Counselor's Log:** I have to be really, really quiet because the captain is standing two feet away from me -- no, three feet -- no, two feet -- well, now it's four feet --   
  


"Counselor, what are you doing?"   
  


"Me? Uh, nothing, sir. I could tell you about the emotions I'm sensing around the ship if you want - -"   
  


"No! That's all right, Counselor. Carry on."   
  


**Counselor's Log continued: **Where was I? Oh, that's right, I don't know where I am because we're lost. Lost, lost, lost, and the captain refuses to admit it. I think he's becoming rather unhinged. He keeps screaming about court-martials and then he punched Will. You know, I'm no boxing expert, but Captain Picard appears to have a pretty wicked left hook. He --   
  


"Counselor, I know you're doing _something_ over there."   
  


"No, sir. Nothing."   
  


"Nothing? It looks like you're talking to your breasts."   
  


"Uh, I am, sir. They don't stay this perky without an occasional pep-talk, you know."   
  


"Oh. Well, by all means, carry on, Counselor."   
  


"Thank you, sir."   
  


* * *   
  


**Chief Engineer's Log: **Five minutes ago, the captain brought the ship to a full stop and ordered that we turn around. Then he asked me if there was any way I could make this bird fly faster -- those are the words he used -- faster than our top speed. I tried to explain to him why we can't go any faster than our top speed, that's why it is our _top speed_, but he told me to save my techno-babble for someone who cares. I'm not entirely sure, but I think he may be going a little soft in the head. Riker came down here right after the captain called, and he told me Picard forgot the difference between port and starboard, and that's why we're turning the ship around. We had a good laugh about that. Anyway, I'm going to pretend to be trying to give the warp engines more power, just in case Picard decides to come down here and check on me. End log.   
  


"Are we there yet?"   
  


Geordi LaForge whipped around and came face to face with Wesley Crusher. "Wes! What the heck are you doing here?"   
  


Wes shrugged. "I dunno. So, are we?"   
  


"Are we what?"   
  


"Are we there yet?"   
  


"Where?"   
  


"Wherever we're going." Wes rolled his eyes. "Duh."   
  


Geordi shook his head, wondering how the doctor's son had ended up back onboard the _Enterprise. _"Uh, no, we're not there yet."   
  


"When are we gonna be there?"   
  


"Barring any unforeseen circumstances, two days."   
  


"What are we gonna do when we get there?"   
  


"Rescue a colony of people before they die of boredom."   
  


"Why?"   
  


Sighing, Geordi shook his head. "Because this sector prides itself on being the most boring in the universe, and these colonists didn't realize that when they set up camp."   
  


"Why?"   
  


"Because they're morons."   
  


"Oh." Wes waited approximately five seconds before asking again, "Are we there yet?"   
  


"No, I told you --"   
  


"Well, when are we gonna be there?"   
  


"Wes, I _told_ you, we'll be --"   
  


"Are we there yet now?"   
  


"ARGH!"   
  


* * *   
  


**Captain's Log, Stardate 47474.8:** LaForge informed me yesterday that Wesley Crusher has somehow appeared on the ship again. And just when I'd finally managed to forget about the bloody little twerp.   
  


"I heard that, Jean-Luc!"   
  


Picard backed away from his corner and turned to face Beverly. "Oh, hi. I was just inspecting this bulkhead." He ran his hand over the wall and nodded. "It seems okay."   
  


She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You were not. You were bad-mouthing my son in an official Captain's log! How could you?"   
  


"Well, it's actually rather simple." He stared at the doctor. "What are you doing on the bridge, Beverly?"   
  


"You're not on the bridge, Captain. You're in Sick Bay. You came here complaining of a headache, remember?" She ran a medical tricorder over his head.   
  


"Stop that! Of course I remember; do you think I'm going senile or something?"   
  


"No, no, of course not," Beverly said soothingly. "But I would like to run a few tests . . ."   
  


"Absolutely not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed on the bridge." He walked out of Sick Bay and turned right.   
  


"Uh, Jean-Luc? The bridge is the other way."   
  


"I knew that."   
  


* * *   
  


**Captain's Personal Log:** I am not going senile. So I've forgotten a few things. So what? I can't be expected to remember everything, can I? Why is everyone staring at me? I think they're planning something. Plotting against me. Yes, that's it! They're planning mutiny! It's a conspiracy! It's --   
  


"Captain, we're all staring at you because your fly is open."   
  


"Oh. Thank you, Number One."   
  


"No problem."   
  


**Captain's Personal Log, continued:** Okay, so my fly was down. So what? I was in a hurry this morning, that's all. Hmm, that explains why all those small children in the corridor screamed and ran away from me. At the time, I thought it was just the usual screaming and running away. Anyhow, Mr. Data informs me that we should be at the planet Banality Seven, our original destination before Riker took that wrong turn, in twenty-two hours.   
  


"Captain, what are you doing?"   
  


"Uh, nothing, Counselor. Nothing at all."   
  


"Really? It looks like you're talking to your, um. . . lap."   
  


Picard glowered at Deanna. "Well, I'm certainly not giving anything down there a pep-talk."   
  


She hid a smile. "Whatever you say, sir."   
  


* * *   
  


"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"   
  


Geordi gritted his teeth, determined to keep his cool. He usually had patience with the boy, but now his patience was wearing thin. "Wes, wouldn't you rather go see your mother? I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."   
  


"Nope, I like it here in Engineering. So, are we there yet?"   
  


Sighing, the chief engineer went back to pressing buttons on his console at random, trying to look busy. Actually, he was getting a nice little tune from the different beeps each button made. With a little practice, he thought he might be able to play 'Mary Had A Little Lamb'.   
  


"Geordiiiiiiiiiiiiii," Wesley whined. "Are we there yet? Huh? Huh?"   
  


Geordi did his best to ignore him, still pushing buttons. Ah, there, that sounded like the first line of 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'! He wondered why so many children's songs had the word 'little' in the titles. It occurred to him that maybe it was because children themselves were little. Well, he amended, except for the children on Gigantious Five. Those kids made Worf look like a tribble.   
  


"Hey, stop ignoring me! Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there y --"   
  


"Does it _look_ like we're there yet?! Believe me, Wes, I'll tell you the minute, no the second, hell, I'll tell you the millisecond we get there! Okay?!"   
  


Wesley blinked at Geordi's outburst and nodded silently. The engineer and the boy stared at each other for a moment before Geordi went back to pushing buttons on the console. Wes waited another minute, then said very softly,   
  


"Are we there yet?"   
  


* * *   
  


**Chief Engineer's Log: **I finally managed to get away from Wesley Crusher. I was only able to escape after he drank twelve Big Gulps and realized there's no bathroom in Engineering. And to think, I used to complain about there being no bathrooms. Life is ironic sometimes. What's even more ironic is the fact that I'm now hiding in the captain's master bathroom. I figure it's the one place Wes won't dare search. Note to self: ask Dr. Crusher if there's any chance Wesley was cross-bred with a leech.   
  


"Mr. LaForge? What are you doing in my bathroom?"   
  


"Oh! Hi, Captain. Uh, I'm hiding from Wesley Crusher. What are you doing?"   
  


Picard sighed. "Hiding from Dr. Crusher. She keeps trying to scan me and run tests." He shuddered.   
  


"Oh. Um, sorry to hear that."   
  


"Yeah." The captain brightened. "Geordi, take a look at this."   
  


Geordi was suspicious. He'd heard about the captain's odd behavior and wondered what, exactly, the man could possibly want to show him in the bathroom. "What is it, sir?" He readied himself to run.   
  


"Come over here by the toilet."   
  


Holding his hands up, Geordi backed away. "Uh, sir, I really don't think --"   
  


"It's a Potty Putter!" Picard exclaimed proudly.   
  


"Huh?" Geordi blinked and stared at Picard. "A what?"   
  


"A Potty Putter. See?" Picard indicated the piece of green fabric that lay on the floor in front of the toilet. On top of the fabric, there was a small green cup with a small white ball in it. A stick with a triangular flag at the top protruded from the cup. "It's a bathroom golf game. So, while you're sitting on the toilet, you can practice your putting technique. Get it? A Potty Putter."   
  


Raising his eyebrows, Geordi nodded. "It's. . . very nice, Captain. Where did you get it?"   
  


"Remember those cryogenically frozen people from the twentieth century that we picked up several years ago? Well, one of the men programmed the Potty Putter's pattern into the replicator. I found it a couple days ago and decided to give it a try. And look, the Potty Putter also comes with these little golf clubs!"   
  


"Sir, could you please stop saying 'Potty Putter'?" Geordi was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "You know, maybe you should let Dr. Crusher run those tests."   
  


"Just what is it you're suggesting, Mr. LaForge?" Picard narrowed his eyes menacingly.   
  


"Nothing, Captain."   
  


"Oh. Okay." Picard held out a golf club and gestured to the toilet. "Here, why don't you sit down and take a swing at it?"   
  


"Uh, sir? I'd really rather not."   
  


"Come on, Geordi."   
  


"No, Captain. . . ."   
  


"Do it!"   
  


Geordi gulped. "Yes, sir."   
  


* * *   
  


"Geordi? Where are you? Are we there yet? Geordi?" Wesley Crusher wandered through Engineering. He found it hard to believe Geordi had given him the slip. Why would he want to do that? Oh, well. He shrugged. Maybe there would be something to do in Sick Bay.   
  


Walking out of Engineering, he spotted a blinking red button on a panel in front of him. He stopped and watched the light. It seemed to be blinking in a pattern, instead of just _blinking_. He watched it for another minute. Yep, definitely a pattern. When it quit blinking, Wes hit the button in what he hoped was the same pattern. The button turned yellow for a second, then went back to red and began blinking in the same pattern as before. Oh! He thought he had it now. When it stopped blinking, he punched the button in the same pattern as it had previously been blinking. The button lit up a solid red and stayed that way. The computer chimed and a computer voice spoke up, "Congratulations! You have just activated the all-Celine Dion, all the time intergalactic radio network! Enjoy!"   
  


'My Heart Will Go On', the theme song to _Titanic,_ began to play over the _Enterprise_'s comm system.   
  


"Whoooooops." Wesley glanced quickly around Engineering, then put his hands behind his back and exited the room, whistling innocently.   
  


* * *   
  


**First Officer's Log, Stardate 47474.9:** Hey, cool, I'm in charge of the bridge! Uh, I haven't seen the captain since yesterday, but I saw Geordi a few hours ago, and he was muttering something about Picard and the bathroom and golf. I'm not really sure what he was talking about; he seemed a bit incoherent. Anyway, we'll be at Banality Seven in approximately five hours. Of course, we would have been there five _days_ ago if the captain knew right from left, but --   
  


"Will, I really don't think you should put all that in the official log."   
  


"Deanna, I'm the captain and I'll do as I please."   
  


"You are not the captain."   
  


"While I'm sitting in this chair, I'm the captain. Don't argue."   
  


Deanna rolled her eyes. "Whatever."   
  


**First Officer's Log, continued: **As I was saying. . . Oh, I don't know what I was saying. Nobody's been able to shut off the radio station that Wesley brought in, and who can think with that song playing over and over and over and over and over and over --   
  


"Will, are you all right?"   
  


"No, I am not all right! I can't stand this! How many times can a person hear this song and remain sane? I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"   
  


"I sense that you hate it."   
  


Riker stared at the counselor for a moment, then stood up and began kicking the captain's chair.   
  


* * *   
  


**Captain's Personal Log: **Although I don't condone Wesley's actions, and I fully support Riker's decision to throw him in the brig, I must admit that I rather like this music. I think this Celine woman is a fellow French-person. Oh, and I finally took Geordi's advice and let the doctor run her tests on me. Turns out I'm not going senile after all. I just had a touch of the Loonius brain fever. Apparently it's going around. But now I'm back to my old self, fit as a fiddle. I think I'll go back to playing with the Potty Putter now. End log.   
  


* * *   
  


"Are we there yet?" Wesley asked the security officer in charge of the brig.   
  


"No."   
  


"When will we be there?"   
  


The man shrugged. "Hell if I know. They don't tell me squat."   
  


"Oh. Are we there yet?"   
  


"I think I understand why they put you in here."   
  


Wes shook his head. "No, they put me in here cuz I was the one who turned on the radio and couldn't figure out how to shut it off."   
  


"Wait a minute." The security guy gaped at Wes. "_You're _the one who turned this crap on?"   
  


"I didn't mean to. But it's not so bad if you put your hands over your ears and hum, like this." He demonstrated.   
  


"I've got a better idea." The security officer un-holstered his phaser and shot the speaker in the security room. The room fell blissfully silent. He glanced over at Wesley. "You didn't see that."   
  


"Yes, I did."   
  


"No. You didn't."   
  


Wesley's eyes lit up in comprehension. "Oh! Right! I didn't see a thing."   
  


"Good."   
  


"So, are we there yet?"   
  


"Hey, kid? Don't you think you're wearing the 'are we there yet' bit a little thin?"   
  


Wes shrugged. "I dunno. Will you tell me when we get there?"   
  


The security officer gazed speculatively at his phaser. "Oh, yeah. I'll tell you."   
  


* * *   
  


**Chief Medical Officer's Log: **Well, it seems Jean-Luc wasn't the only one suffering from the Loonius brain fever. Thirteen other cases were reported. I treated them all and sent them back to work. I am now preparing to receive the colonists from Banality Seven. As long as nobody takes any more wrong turns, the colonists should come onboard in approximately an hour. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what to do with them. It would seem that they'll need several hours in a holodeck instead of in Sick Bay. Come to think of it, that's a good idea. I'll have to run it past the captain. Oh, and I'll have to see about getting Wesley out of the brig. It's not fair. He didn't know what that button did. They ought to have things better labeled around here. Then again, maybe it is fair. That stupid song is driving me crazy. I mean, really, how many times can your heart go on and on and on and on and on and on - -   
  


* * *   
  


"Captain, isn't there any way to shut that music off?" Riker whined.   
  


Picard shifted in his now-mangled chair and frowned. "You know, Number One, we really need to talk about these little chair-kicking episodes of yours. They're unbecoming of an officer. Not to mention you messed up my chair."   
  


"But, Captain, the music. . .?"   
  


"I rather like the music. This Celine person has a lovely voice."   
  


"Well, you're the _only_ one who likes it, then. While you were playing bathroom golf - -"   
  


"Potty Putting, Number One. It's called Potty Putting."   
  


"Whatever. While you were doing that, I had several reports of the music driving people to commit acts of violence. One ensign even went so far as to gouge her own eardrums out with a spoon."   
  


Picard sighed. "All right. I don't know what can be done that you haven't already tried, but --"   
  


"Captain, if I may?" Worf spoke up. "I believe I have thought of a way."   
  


"Are you sure?" Riker nearly begged.   
  


"I am sure."   
  


Picard nodded. "Oh, fine. Make it so."   
  


* * *   
  


Every crewman in Engineering looked up sharply when Worf entered the room. He surveyed the area, eyes finally landing on the control panel with the red button. One side of his mouth curled into a snarl as he aimed his phaser at the button. When they saw what the big Klingon had in mind, several engineers dove out of the way a split second before he fired. Worf continued firing on the red button for well over a minute, only stopping when the panel was little more than a smoking black lump on the floor. He cocked his head toward the ceiling, listening for the music. Hearing nothing, he smiled, then looked down and gave the charred lump a few kicks for good measure. Satisfied that he'd done his job, he gave a pleased grunt and exited Engineering, ignoring the stupefied crewmen who gawked at him as he left.   
  


* * *   
  


"You murdered an innocent control panel?" Deanna cried.   
  


Worf nodded stiffly. "It was the only honorable thing to do."   
  


Riker shifted in his chair, trying to avoid a very friendly spring his chair-kicking episode had dislodged. "I'd hardly call the panel innocent. It was playing that horrible song over and over. It was driving everyone insane. Good work, Worf."   
  


"Thank you, Commander. I had to do something. It was either that or ritual suicide."   
  


Raising his eyebrows, Riker stared at Worf. "Wow. You Klingons have a ritual suicide for everything, don't you?"   
  


"Just about."   
  


"Well, you saved my sanity, anyway. I mean, that damn song must have played over a thousand times."   
  


Data turned to face Riker. "Actually, Commander, it played only three hundred fifteen and one-half times."   
  


"Then it was three hundred and sixteen times too many!"   
  


Data knit his brow. "I do not think that is possible, sir."   
  


"It's just an expression, Data." Riker shifted again, still trying to get away from the friendly spring. "What's our ETA?"   
  


Picard beamed. "See, Number One? Isn't that much better than 'are we there yet'?"   
  


"Yeah, right, whatever. When are we gonna get there?"   
  


Picard sighed.   
  


Data calculated for about a nanosecond. "At our current rate of speed, we will arrive in eleven minutes, thirty-two seconds, twelve milliseconds, forty-one microseconds. . ."   
  


* * *   
  


"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"   
  


The security officer clenched his teeth and drew upon every ounce of his will to keep from lowering the force-field and strangling the kid.   
  


"Hey, you said you'd tell me when we got there! Are we there yet?"   
  


Suddenly, another security officer poked her head into the room. "Hey, Bill, we've arrived at the planet. Just thought you'd like to know, since normally no one tells you squat."   
  


"Thanks."   
  


Wesley grinned. "So we're there now?"   
  


Security Officer Bill sighed with relief. Finally, the kid would shut up with the 'Are we there yet's. "Yeah, we're here. Happy now?"   
  


Wes nodded. "Yep." He waited approximately ten seconds, then said,   
  


"So, when are you gonna let me out of here?"   
  
  
  


* * *   
  


_In Chapter Two - - The crew comes face to face with the most boring planet ever; Wesley plays with another blinking button; meet a kid who's possibly more annoying than Wes; and Data and Geordi trash a hotel room! All this and more in Chapter 2!_   
  


_Comments, pleeeeeeeeeeeease? _


	2. This Sucks. When Are We Leaving?

  
  
  
  


**Captain's Log: **Well, we've finally arrived at Banality Seven. We've beamed about half the colonists onboard the ship, and they don't look very well. One transporter chief told me that as soon as the first group was brought onboard, they scattered and ran screaming for the holodecks, knocking over anyone who got in their way. Unfortunately, that included a group of children who were on their way to an art class. Dr. Crusher has been busy, to say the least. I asked her if it's actually possible to die of boredom, and she told me of the case of Ensign NoName. While I'm not entirely convinced, I do suddenly have a strange craving for an Arsenic Sundae with strychnine sprinkles. End log.   
  


"Captain, the president of the Eastern hemisphere on the planet is hailing us. He wishes to speak to you," Worf informed him.   
  


"Ah. Put him through." Picard stood and tugged on the bottom of his shirt. The hem ripped away from the shirt, leaving a strip of material dangling. He sighed. "Damn. Tenth one this month."   
  


A very boring-looking alien appeared on the viewscreen. "Captain, welcome to Banality Seven, the most boring planet in the Monotony sector! I am President Blah, leader of the most boring continent on the most boring planet in the most boring sector. I live in the most boring house in the most boring city in the most boring county in the most boring state in the most boring country on the most boring continent in the most boring hemisphere on the most boring planet in the most boring system in the most boring sector. Welcome."   
  


Several of the bridge crew had fallen asleep and started to snore. Picard fought off a yawn and tried to smile. "Uh, thank you. I understand your people pride themselves on being bored?"   
  


President Blah nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! That is why I would like to invite you and your crew to visit the surface. There is absolutely nothing to do. You'll be bored out of your minds. You'll have a terribly boring time!"   
  


Picard kicked Riker, who had fallen asleep in his chair and started drooling. "Wake up, Number One. If I have to listen to this man, then so do you," he hissed. Turning his attention back to the viewscreen, he tugged at his shirt again, this time ripping a seam around the collar. "With all due respect, President, that boredom is the reason we're evacuating these colonists. They were going stir-crazy on your planet."   
  


"I know! Isn't it great?"   
  


"Um, if you say so. Thank you for the offer, but I think we'll just finish evacuating the colonists and then be on our way." Picard motioned for Worf to shut off the viewscreen.   
  


"Captain, if I may make a suggestion?"   
  


Picard sighed. "What is it, Mr. Data?"   
  


The android cocked his head. "Perhaps we should take advantage of President Blah's offer to tour the planet. We are on a mission of exploration, are we not? I do not think it is fair to decline the invitation simply because it would not be fun."   
  


"Easy for you to say." Riker snorted. "You don't _get_ bored."   
  


"Captain, I'm sensing great boredom. It - - it's overwhelming! I'm so. . .bored! I. . .can't. . .take it! Waaaaaaaah!" Counselor Troi ran from the bridge, crying and screaming about boredom.   
  


Picard raised his eyebrows and watched her leave. He then turned to the rest of the bridge crew. "I don't want to hear the word 'boring' again from any of you. Understand? I don't want to hear it in any form. If you absolutely must convey that idea, find another word to use. I'm sure there are plenty of others."   
  


"Like what?" Riker challenged.   
  


Data accessed his mental thesaurus. "Monotonous; tedious; listless; wearisome; dull; humdrum; banal; trite; insipid; unexciting; dis --"   
  


"Mr. Data!"   
  


He blinked his yellow eyes. "Sir?"   
  


Picard sighed. "That's enough, I'm sure."   
  


"Aye, sir." Data paused. "Captain? What of my earlier request that we explore the planet?"   
  


The captain groaned. He supposed it had been too much to hope the android would forget. "Fine, fine. If anybody actually _wants_ to go, they can. But we leave orbit exactly twenty-four hours from now. I hope nobody has so much fun they lose track of time."   
  


"Captain, I do not believe anyone will have _fun_."   
  


Picard buried his face in his hands. "That was _sarcasm_, Mr. Data. Look it up."   
  


"Sarcasm: from the classical Greek word _sarkazein, _meaning 'to tear flesh'. A taunting or caustic remark, generally --"   
  


"Mr. DATA!"   
  


* * *   
  


"When are you gonna let me out? Huh, huh, huh?" Wesley jumped up and down with every 'huh'.   
  


Security Officer Bill slumped to the floor. "Shut up. Just shut up, okay? Please? For the love of God, just shut up."   
  


"Aw, c'mon, lemme out now, okay? I won't touch anything, I swear. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"   
  


Bill began thumping the back of his head against the wall. "My mother told me, she said, 'Billy, you should become a doctor like your brother. Why do you want to be in Starfleet, anyway?' I should have listened. Oh, god, why didn't I listen to my mommy?!"   
  


Wesley stopped jumping and stared at the officer. "You still call her 'mommy'?"   
  


"ARGH!!!" Bill grabbed his phaser and began firing in Wes's direction, forgetting that they were separated by a force-field. The force-field shorted out under the blasts from the phaser, and Wes quickly ran out of the room.   
  


Bill stopped firing and stared at the phaser for a moment. He slowly put it to his head. "Goodbye, cruel universe!" He took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.   
  


Nothing happened.   
  


Damn. He'd used up all the phaser's energy firing at Wesley. Sighing, he tossed the useless weapon across the room, then went back to thumping his head against the wall.   
  


* * *   
  


"Dr. Crusher?"   
  


The doctor turned to the person who'd spoken, one of the few colonists who hadn't run screaming toward the holodecks. She was a young human child, probably about eleven years old, one of the youngest colonists they'd rescued.   
  


Beverly smiled at the girl. "Yes?"   
  


"I heard that some of your crew is going down to the planet. Is that true?"   
  


"I believe so. Why?"   
  


The girl opened her eyes really wide and shook her head violently back and forth. "They can't do that! It really sucks down there. There's nothing to do. My best friend jumped off a bridge just to have something to do. My mom said people were so desperate for something to do that she's surprised the birthrate didn't triple."   
  


The doctor nearly choked on her coffee. "Uh, is that so."   
  


"Uh-huh." The girl nodded, then scrunched up her face. "What did she mean by that?"   
  


Beverly cleared her throat. "Uh, where _is_ your mother, anyway?"   
  


"I dunno. I think she went to the holodeck. You're a doctor, right?"   
  


"Yes, I am."   
  


"Okay, so what did she mean about the birthrate tripling?"   
  


"Uh. . . ."   
  


* * *   
  


After escaping from the brig, Wesley walked down the hall toward Engineering. He was hoping to find Geordi and talk to him about a few ideas he had for making the warp engines more efficient. Well, actually, he didn't know if his idea would make them more _efficient_, exactly, but he thought he could get them to make a really cool noise every time they engaged a higher warp setting. Then he thought he'd go to Sick Bay and try to come up with the cure to every incurable disease. Or maybe he'd invent a new disease. Yeah, that could be fun! He'd invent the disease, and then he could watch his mother try to invent a vaccine.   
  


He walked into Engineering and saw the black lump that had formerly been the control panel with the blinking red light. Shrugging, he turned toward the back of the room and spotted another blinking button. This one was blue. Wesley grinned and watched the pattern of the blue light. When it stopped blinking, he started pressing it in the same pattern.   
  


"Congratulations! You have just disabled transporter functions! You will not be able to reactivate function for two days! There are fifteen crew members currently on the planet's surface! Have a nice day!"   
  


Wes backed away from the panel and raised his eyebrows. "Whoooooops!" He glanced around to make sure no one had seen him, then ran out of Engineering.   
  


* * *   
  


"So? Are you gonna tell me or not? You're a doctor, surely you must know." The girl tapped her foot and glared at Dr. Crusher.   
  


"Uh. . ." Beverly glanced around the room desperately, hoping for some kind of distraction. She got her wish when the doors to Sick Bay slid open and Wesley came tearing in. He was out of breath and sweating. "Wes! What are you doing here? I thought you were still in the brig."   
  


He threw himself onto the nearest bio-bed. "Uh, yeah. Kinda long story there, Mom. Look, if any security people come in here, could you tell them you haven't seen me?"   
  


The girl wrinkled her nose. "Who's _he_?"   
  


"I'm Wes. I'm her son. Who're you?"   
  


"Susie. I was one of the colonists on the really sucky planet. Your mom won't tell me what something means."   
  


Beginning to catch his breath now, Wes sat up and looked at her. "What won't she tell you?"   
  


"Wesley. . ." Beverly warned him.   
  


"My mom said it's so boring on that planet and people are so desperate for something to do, she's surprised the birthrate hasn't tripled. And your mom won't tell me what that means." Susie stuck her tongue out at Beverly. "She's a doctor, so I know she knows it."   
  


"Oh." Wes nodded confidently. "Well, it means. . ." A confused look came over his face. "Uh. . . Hey, Mom, what _does_ that mean?"   
  


* * *   
  


On the planet's surface, two groups of crew members had formed. The first consisted of Data, Geordi, Riker (who hadn't wanted to come, but the captain made him), and Worf. Eleven assorted unimportant crew members, including security officer Bill, comprised the other group. Supposedly Starfleet wasn't a popularity contest, but the one big group had split into two as soon as they found out they would be stuck on the surface for two days. The group of unimportant crewmen (and crew-women) whispered to each other about what elitist bastards the senior crew were.   
  


Bill flopped onto the ground beside a very boring tree and glared up at his friend Sally. "You just had to talk me into coming here, didn't you? First I have to put up with that annoying kid asking 'are we there yet?' every two seconds, now I'm stuck here for two days. And to top it off, today is my birthday and no one remembered!"   
  


"You're not going to start beating your head against anything again, are you?" Sally asked. "And excuse me, okay? I thought a nice boring visit to a nice boring planet was all you needed after dealing with that kid. So excuuuuuuuuuuuse me!"   
  


Geordi glanced over at the group of unimportant crewmen. "Did you say you put up with a kid who kept asking if we were there yet?"   
  


"Uh-huh. You know him?"   
  


"Yeah. He was doing the same thing to me in Engineering." Geordi walked over to Bill and patted him on the shoulder. "You poor, poor man."   
  


Bill nodded. "Thanks. Whaddaya wanna bet he's the reason we're stuck here?"   
  


Geordi didn't have a chance to respond. A boring-looking alien walked up to the groups and smiled. "Hello! I am the most boring tour guide on this most boring planet --"   
  


Riker held up a hand. "How about if you cut to the chase, all right?"   
  


The alien frowned. "I don't understand."   
  


"Make your speech if you must, but how about if you leave the word 'boring' out, okay? Can you try that?"   
  


"That would be difficult, therefore interesting, therefore not boring, so no I can't."   
  


Bill began beating his head against the tree.   
  


The alien shrugged and resumed his introduction. "I am Dullard, the most boring tour guide from the most boring hotel in the most boring city --"   
  


"Wait a minute, did you say hotel?" Riker interrupted again.   
  


Dullard was beginning to get frustrated. "Yes, the Hotel Tedium. If you'd let me finish --"   
  


"Yeah, uh, listen. Dullard, is it? We're going to be here for a couple days, and I thought maybe you could show us to this hotel." Riker glanced around the group and received nods of agreement.   
  


"Oh, fine. Right this way." Dullard sighed. "On our way to the hotel, we'll pass several boring tourist attractions. On your left, there's the dried-up fishing hole. It used to be filled to the brim with fish, but the fish were too bored to reproduce and soon died. On your right is a brick. It is rumored to have been the pet of my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, named simply Bore. Directly in front of us, you can see the Hotel Tedium. It was founded a hundred years ago by Yadda Yadda, so not only is it the most boring hotel, it is also the oldest. It boasts an empty swimming pool, a game room with one ping-pong table and no ping-pong ball, a mini-bar filled with nothing but Spam, and a full room-service menu with many items on it, including bread and water. The Hotel Tedium is the most boring hotel on the most boring street in the most boring city in the most boring county in the most boring --"   
  


* * *   
  


"C'mon, Mom, what does it mean?"   
  


"Wesley Crusher, if you don't know that by _now_, I'm not telling you."   
  


"Well what about me?" Susie demanded.   
  


Beverly rolled her eyes. "Can we please change the subject? Wes, why is security after you this time?"   
  


"Uhhh. . ." Wes shrugged. "Iplayedwithanotherprettyblinkinglightandstrandedfifteencrewmembersonthatreallyreallyboringplanetforthenexttwodays."   
  


"_What_ was that, young man?"   
  


"He _said_ he played with another pretty blinking light and stranded fifteen crew members on that really, really boring planet for the next two days," Susie translated. She glared at Wes. "What did you do that for? They'll go crazy down there."   
  


"Hey, I didn't mean to! I didn't know what that button did. It's not my fault." Wes pouted.   
  


Susie laughed. "Hey, Dr. Crusher?"   
  


Beverly shook her head at her son and turned to Susie. "What?" she asked tiredly.   
  


"Can Wesley show me around the ship? I've never been on a great big ship like this before."   
  


She sighed. "Oh, I don't see why not. Just don't touch any more buttons, do you hear me?"   
  


"Okay. And Mom?"   
  


"What is it?"   
  


"This sucks. When are we leaving?"   
  


* * *   
  


**First Officer's Log, Stardate 47474.10:** We spent the night in the Hotel Tedium last night. This place lives up to its name. There is an old television set in each room, but there is only one channel, and it shows only one thing over and over. That one thing, if you can believe it, is an infomercial for the Potty Putter. Our breakfast was oatmeal. At least, I think it was oatmeal; it's kind of hard to tell. To make matters worse, we all had to pick a roommate and share rooms. I said, but I'm the senior officer, I should get a room to myself! There are fifteen of us, so obviously _someone_ gets a room by himself. But then they told me, no, Security Officer Bill, the freak that was beating his head against the tree, he gets a room with two roommates because he shouldn't be left alone for even a second. So, I had to share a room with Worf, and he snores like a Lunatian snoring beast!   
  


"I do _not_ snore, Commander."   
  


"How do you know?"   
  


"Snoring is dishonorable."   
  


"So what? Do you need to go commit ritual suicide now?"   
  


Worf growled. "You left dirty underwear on my pillow and wet towels on the bathroom floor."   
  


"Hey!" Riker glared at him. "I'm still your commanding officer, and you will show me some respect!"   
  


"Sorry. You left dirty underwear on my pillow and wet towels on the bathroom floor, _sir._"   
  


Riker nodded. "That's better."   
  


"It is not better!" Worf shouted. "It is dirty underwear! On my pillow! It is dishonorable! I must burn the pillow!"   
  


"Jeez, calm down, will ya? They're not _that_ dirty. I only had them on for a few hours. Besides, I didn't think Klingons needed pillows. Getting a little soft, are ya?"   
  


Worf ripped the pillow off the bed and threw it to the floor, Riker's underwear falling to the floor beside it. He whipped out his phaser and fired on the pillow and the underwear, vaporizing them both.   
  


Riker watched and frowned. "Damn. That was the only pair I brought with me."   
  


"You mean. . .?"   
  


"Yep." He grinned. "I'm goin' commando, baby!"   
  


Worf shuddered. "I did _not_ need to know that, sir."   
  


* * *   
  


Geordi rolled over and stared at Data, who was sitting on the room's other bed. The android had been sitting up watching the tv all night. The same commercial for the Potty Putter, over and over. He groaned, remembering his night trapped in the captain's bathroom playing with the Putter. "Data, what are you watching that for? That thing is possibly the stupidest invention known to man."   
  


"I do not know, Geordi. There is something fascinating about this Potty Putter." Data spoke without taking his eyes off of the television.   
  


"Yeah. Fascinating. It's fascinating that somebody actually invented that thing. I have to wonder what the inventor was thinking." Getting no response, Geordi shook his head and stood up. "This is too much," he muttered, and reached for his phaser. "Look out, Data."   
  


Geordi took aim and fired at the tv. The blast made the screen implode, and black smoke poured from the set. He then picked the television up and walked to the window. "Data, open the window for me, will you?" The android did so, and Geordi tossed the tv out, watching it fall four stories to the ground below and smash itself to pieces on the sidewalk. "That's better."   
  


"Geordi? Would it not have been sufficient to simply turn off the television's power?"   
  


"Sure, but this made me feel a hell of a lot better."   
  


"Throwing an electronic device out of the window made you feel better?"   
  


"Yes. Definitely. I feel great now."   
  


Data shrugged. He gazed around the room, spotting the telephone. Taking out his own phaser, he shot the phone, then tossed it through the window. "I do not notice any perceptible change in my emotions."   
  


"Uh. . ." Geordi tried not to laugh. "I don't think you really get it. . . ."   
  


* * *   
  


"And this is the bridge," Wesley whispered, standing just inside the turbolift. "We're not really allowed to be here, so --"   
  


"Cool, the bridge!" Susie exclaimed. Slipping under Wes's arm, she ran out of the turbolift and onto the bridge. "Whoa, what the heck happened to these chairs?"   
  


Picard stared down at the girl in shock. "What are you doing here? Who are you? Children are not allowed on the bridge!"   
  


"Hi, I'm Susie. I'm one of the colonists you rescued from the sucky boring planet. Wesley was showing me around the ship last night, but we didn't get up here until just now. He - -" she turned toward Wes and discovered he was gone. "Hey! No fair, he's supposed to be showing me around!"   
  


"Are you telling me you've been running around loose on the ship since last night? Where are your parents?"   
  


She shrugged. "I dunno. I guess they're still on the holodeck. Hey, Mr. Captain-person, what happened to those chairs?" She pointed to the two mangled chairs.   
  


Picard sighed. "My first officer had a little temper-tantrum."   
  


"Really?" Susie's eyes widened. "Did he scream and say bad words? My dad sometimes kicks our replicator and yells words that my mom says I'm not old enough to know the meanings of."   
  


"Uh, that's. . .very interesting, Susie. Why don't you," Picard pointed at an unimportant helmsman, "help Susie find her parents, okay?"   
  


The helmsman (who felt pretty darn useless, considering that they weren't going anywhere) nodded and held his hand out to Susie.   
  


"Just a minute," she informed him. "Hey, Mr. Captain?"   
  


Picard ran his hand over his face. "What is it, Susie?"   
  


"I have a question for you that Dr. Crusher wouldn't answer. . ."   
  


* * *   
  


"Okay, Data. Now, see the mini-bar?"   
  


"Yes."   
  


"Okay. Isn't there anything about it that annoys you?"   
  


Data cocked his head and concentrated on the mini-bar. He finally gave up and shook his head. "No, Geordi, there is not."   
  


Geordi sighed. "You do have your emotion chip turned on, don't you?"   
  


"Yes, Geordi."   
  


He walked over to the mini-bar and ran his hands over the glass. "Pay attention, Data. Really _look_ at it. It's filled with nothing but Spam, a substance that was outlawed when people found out what it was made from. And look! They're charging two hundred dollars a can! Two hundred, Data. It's robbery. Surely you must take offence to this!"   
  


Gazing at the mini-bar, Data slowly began to nod. "I believe you are correct, Geordi. I feel. . ." he paused, ". . .angry. Yes, I am angry at the mini-bar!"   
  


Geordi grinned. "And what do you want to do?"   
  


"I want to destroy the mini-bar!"   
  


Data and Geordi both began firing at the mini-bar. When their phasers ran out of energy, they stood up and took turns kicking it. Data began picking up the cans of Spam and chucking them out the window with perfect accuracy. When there was nothing of the mini-bar left to destroy, Geordi looked at his friend.   
  


"How do you feel now, Data?"   
  


"I feel. . .pleased."   
  


"Yep. The mini-bar got what it deserved. Now, is there anything about the beds that annoy you? I thought mine was kind of lumpy. . ."   
  


* * *   
  


"You left fur in the shower!"   
  


"No, that is _your_ 'fur', Commander. Perhaps you're going bald."   
  


Riker glared at Worf. "I don't ever want to hear that word from you again."   
  


"What word would that be? Bald? Bald, bald, bald." The look in Worf's eyes dared the commander to make something of it.   
  


"I'm warning you, Worf. . ."   
  


"Bald, bald, bald."   
  


"Are all Klingons this immature, or is it just you?"   
  


Worf frowned. "Immaturity is --"   
  


"Oh, let me guess. Dishonorable?"   
  


"Well, yes. But I think certain exceptions can be made. Especially when --" he stopped, interrupted by the crashing noises coming from the next room.   
  


Riker jumped up and ran to the window. "Uh, there's a tv, mini-bar, and now a bed on the sidewalk below. Who is in that room?"   
  


"Lieutenant Commander LaForge and Lieutenant Commander Data."   
  


"Are you sure? Why would they be throwing furniture out the window?"   
  


Worf shrugged. "The bed _was_ a bit lumpy."   
  


* * *   
  


**Captain's Log, Stardate 47474.11:** Only four hours until the transporters come back online. I managed to avoid little Susie's question about the tripling birthrate by telling her to ask her mother. I've found that works for just about everything. Number One reported in, and he said everything is fine on the planet's surface. Boring, but fine. However, I could hear Mr. Worf in the background saying something about dirty socks on his pillow, and I could swear I heard Mr. Data's voice yelling 'Geronimo!' just before a loud crashing noise. Surely not. Maybe I need to have my ears checked. Anyway, security still hasn't been able to locate Wesley Crusher, or Susie's parents. She keeps saying her parents are on the holodeck, but I'm beginning to wonder if they're actually hiding from her. As for the young Mr. Crusher, I'm certain Beverly is hiding him. It will be dealt with. Oh, I almost forgot, Counselor Troi had to be sedated. She kept screaming and crying about overwhelming boredom. She should be fine once we leave orbit. Which, barring any more of Wesley's stunts, should be in about four hours. End log.   
  


* * *   
  


**Counselor's Log: **Oh, the boredom! I can't stand it! It's horrible! I'm bored! I'm so very, very, very bored! I simply can't go on! I --   
  


"Deanna, what are you doing? Get back in that bio-bed! Do you need another sedative?"   
  


"YES! Please, Doctor, I can't stand the boredom! A sedative, yes! That's exactly what I need! Ha, ha, ha! Sedate me, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!"   
  


**Counselor's Log, continued:** Ah, yes, sedation. Blissful, floating, seda - - zzz. . .   
  


* * *   
  


"Hey, Mom?"   
  


Beverly placed the hypo-spray on a table and turned toward the curtain her son was hiding behind. "Yes, Wesley?"   
  


"This place sucks. When are we leaving?"   
  


"Yeah, when are we leaving?" Susie piped up.   
  


"In about two hours. We would have been able to leave two days ago if _somebody_ hadn't taken the transporters offline."   
  


"Yeah, stupid." Susie stuck her tongue out at Wes.   
  


"Hey, it was an accident, okay? Sorry!" Wes rolled his eyes. "You'd think no one else on this ship ever had an accident."   
  


"No, it's just that you seem to have more of them than anyone else. And I don't know how long I can keep you hidden from Jean-Luc."   
  


Susie scrunched up her nose. "Who's Jean-Luc?"   
  


"The captain."   
  


"Oh." Her eyes lit up. "Hey, he didn't know what my mom meant about the birthrate tripling. I don't think he's a very smart captain."   
  


"When did you meet the captain?" Beverly asked in surprise.   
  


"Uh. . ." Wes looked sheepish. "She kinda ran past me onto the bridge yesterday. . ."   
  


"What! You're supposed to stay away from the bridge, you know that!"   
  


"Hey, Dr. Crusher?"   
  


"Yes, Susie?" She sighed.   
  


"When are we gonna leave?"   
  


"Yeah, Mom, when are we gonna leave?"   
  


* * *   
  


**Captain's Log:** We're finally leaving! The transporters are back online, the crew are all accounted for and onboard the ship, and everything is back to normal. We finally located little Susie's parents on holodeck three, but the child prefers to stay in Sick Bay with the doctor and, I'm sure, Wesley. Oh, well, I guess as long as Wes is with his mother, he isn't ejecting the warp core, or programming the ship to self-destruct, or something. Security Officer Bill has, sadly, suffered from a nervous breakdown. He is also in Sick Bay, being treated by the doctor. I have to wonder what happened on the planet's surface. Everyone claims 'nothing', but Number One and Mr. Worf don't appear to be speaking to each other, and I received an outlandish bill from the hotel, claiming tens of thousands of dollars' worth of damage done to the room Mr. Data and Commander LaForge were staying in.   
  


"That's, uh. . .completely untrue, Captain." Geordi shook his head at Data, indicating that he should remain silent. "They must have us mixed up with someone else."   
  


Picard frowned. "What are you talking about? I was just over here inspecting this bulkhead." He ran his hand over the wall. "Yes, I think this one's okay."   
  


Geordi rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sir."   
  


"I saw that!"   
  


"Saw what?"   
  


"You rolled your eyes at me! I could have you court-martialed for that!"   
  


Riker snorted. "Oh, boy, here we go again. . ."   
  


* * *   
  


"When are we leaving? When are we leaving? When are we leaving?" Wes and Susie shouted, hopping up and down.   
  


Beverly clutched at her hair. "I told you! We've already left! We're going home now, okay?!"   
  


"Oh." Wes and Susie looked at each other for a moment.   
  


"Are we there yet?"   
  


"Yeah, are we there yet?"   
  


"ARGH!" Beverly screamed.   
  


Security Officer Bill rolled over in his bio-bed and pulled his pillow over his head. "Oh, god, noooooooooo!" he moaned. "Now there's _two_ of them!"   
  
  
  


_**************_

_THE END_

_**************_

_2001 by Jamie August_   
  


_So? Comments, please!****_


End file.
